Swing Life Away
by Rahh Gumba Foo
Summary: A short, sweet, cheesy, and to the point story about Dib's adventures on the swing set.


Um, yeah. So I thought of this story while listening to music, obviously, Rise Against. I don't think the writer of Swing Life Away intended for its lyrics to be taken literally, but that's the kind of person I am. Haha... so yeah. I had to take a break from my other story... it'll be finished, I swear! I just need to collect my thoughts a little before I finish it.

Please don't take this story too seriously. I just wrote it on a whim.

Oh, and keep in mind that Dib's seven years old in this story. How cute.

* * *

Creak... 

The wind blew the swings that hung from the metal bars of the swing set, as they creaked and croaked of old age. Another gust of wind seared through the unmanageable tuft of hair that would never stay down on top of Dib's seven-year-old head. He stared at the swings in awe.

Dib had finally done it, after much planning and preparation. And it was worth it.

Earlier, late at night, the boy quietly left the house through a rope thrown out of his window. Trying to make the least amount of noise possible, he tiptoed through the grass of his front lawn. At first, every step brought an overwhelming surge of fear-- making Dib want to turn around and climb back up that rope to his familiar, safe bedroom. _What if the neighbor's dog isn't tied to that tree and mauls me? What if Dad comes home and sees me sneaking around the front yard?_

No, the chances of Membrane coming home were extremely slim to none. Even Dib's young, hopeful mind had come to the realization that _that_ situation could almost be deemed a fairy tale, if it hadn't been considered impossible already.

Still, the rabid bulldog that lived next door _could_ impose a problem in getting to his destination. Peeking around the corner to the neighbor's backyard, Dib realized that their dog was, in fact, chained to its tree, as it always was. He giggled as he realized that an unjustified fear had almost kept him from going to the place that he loved most. After finally reaching the street, Dib knew he was free. His planning had actually gone to good use. This new freedom lifted a weight off his shoulders, and he sighed with relief. With the pavement under his shoes, and night sky above him, he ran.

He ran as fast as he could, straight to the school and to the playground.

A few minutes later, tired and out of breath, Dib stopped. When he looked up for a quick gasp for air, he saw what he thought could only be believable in dreams-- the sight of an empty swingset. He sprinted now, and when he finally reached the swings, he jumped onto them gleefully as if he were reuniting with a lost family member.

As he began to pump his legs and fly higher towards the sky, he deeply inhaled the fresh scent of the cool, dark summer night's air. There was silence around him-- no children chasing each other, no one waiting in line to have a turn on the swing, no Mr. Elliot, happily telling his students that grinding others' faces into the woodchips was "just a little bit mean". Aside from the creaking of the swing as he pumped back and forth, Dib was engulfed in silence.

Swinging was Dib's favorite playground pastime. He had originally been attracted to the swings because they didn't require someone to play with. As an added bonus, the swings didn't involve tackling, yelling, insulting, whacking, truthing or daring, getting wedgies, kissing, or teasing -- all of the things that Dib hated about recess. Best of all, he wasn't made fun of while on the swings. The kids who spat in Dib's face because he carried their dodgeball team to defeat wouldn't evengo _near_ the things.

While on the swings, there isn't much to do except look at the sky, which is exactly what the little boy would do. His insides would grow with excitement as he reached the highest point of each swing and reached for the sky, and he would sigh with relief when he was safer, near the ground. Every day, Dib would swing the highest out of everyone who preferred the swings during recess.

On one occasion, Dib flew higher than the bar that his swing hung from. Much higher. And with each pump of his legs, Dib was flying a tiny bit higher. That sensation of flying into the sky excited Dib in a way that he had never experienced. He imagined what it would be like to _actually_ fly into space-- and everyday for the rest of his school year, he attempted to.

"Swings are for the kids with no friends," one of the bullies on the dodgeball team yelled one day. But it didn't matter. When Dib was as close to outer space as he could possibly get as a seven-year-old, who needed friends?

As the first signs of morning approached, Dib's swinging came to a stop, and he sat, reflecting for a moment. What a glorious night it was.

After staring blankly into the woodchips, thinking, a gust of wind brought the boy back to reality. He had to get_ some_ sleep, after all, and morning was coming on fast. With the same sense of freedom that he felt as he ran to the park, and even as he was flying through the air, Dib sprinted back to his house.


End file.
